


and now we're standing in the eye of the storm and everything is gone

by notthebigspoon



Series: Hurricane [1]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night that Buster dumps him, stricken expression on his face as he says 'We can't anymore, it's not right, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry' before walking out the door without another word, Tim destroys his kitchen.</p><p>Title taken from Hurricane by Theory of a Deadman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and now we're standing in the eye of the storm and everything is gone

The night that Buster dumps him, stricken expression on his face as he says 'We can't anymore, it's not right, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry' before walking out the door without another word, Tim destroys his kitchen. He yanks the cabinets open and flings dishes everywhere, hurls glasses up against the wall, even shatters the blender and the toaster into countless pieces of plastic and metal. He collapses onto the floor mindless of the glass that presses through his jeans and into his skin. He slumps against one of the lower cabinets and cries but doesn't make a sound.

Zito finds him there a few hours later and pulls him into his arms, kissing his hair and saying, “Oh Timmy...”

Tim clings to his shirt and sobs.

It gets better as the months go on. Hector and Whitey catch him and he still struggles but the ache in his chest starts to subside. He doesn't talk to Buster much more than he has to. He starts to feel like he's okay again.

They're on track to sweep the Rockies and they have two shiny new players and one of them looks like someone's taken all of his toys. He tries to comfort Pence but fails miserably at it and gets Posey to open his big stupid mouth into the bargain. Seeing that oh-so-close and oh-so-tender moment between Pence and Pagan just twists the knife further. This goes under the heading of Terrible Awful No-Good Days.

When he gets on the plane, he accidentally nudges Buster as he moves past his seat and their eyes meet for just a moment. Buster looks hopeful, like maybe he wants to say something. Tim looks away and heads straight for the back. He tucks himself up against the wall and draws his legs up, pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He closes his eyes tight and pretends that they're not stinging and they're not damp.

A hand closes on his shoulder and Tim's whole body jerks. He pulls away, eyes still shut tight, trying to compress himself smaller. If he can't see anyone then no one can see him and if no one can see him then no one can hurt him.

“Timmy, please.”

“No.” Tim chokes out, as quietly as he can, and shakes his head. “No, Posey. You don't get to call me that. Not anymore.”

“I'm sorry. In the dugout, I didn't mean to... I wasn't making fun of you.”

“Fine, whatever, doesn't matter. Just leave me alone.”

But he doesn't, he _won't_ , he doesn't have the decency to just leave Tim to his own misery. He sits down and he touches Tim's shoulder again. Tim smacks at his hand, almost a punch and there's a sick satisfaction in the way that Buster recoils. Buster stays in his side and makes sure that their bodies don't touch again.

“Just... I'll leave you alone. In a minute. But hear me out, okay?” Buster says, voice pleading, and he doesn't seem deterred when Tim doesn't look up. “It wasn't that I didn't care about you. I did care. But it wasn't right.”

“Fuck you.” Tim snarls, just a little louder than he meant to and he can hear a rustling. Zito gives him a careful look before moving a few seats up, ostensibly to give them some privacy. “Fuck you and fuck your homophobia and fuck my own stupid heart for letting me fall in love with you.”

“Hom- Jesus Timmy, is that what you think?”

“It wasn't right.” Tim mimics, shoving his hand across his eyes. “Fuck you. Fuck you, leave me alone.”

It's quiet again and then Buster gets up and Tim can hear his footsteps moving down the aisle. It's only a few seconds before someone else is approaching and sitting down. Tim hopes that it's Zeets, because he really needs a hug right now. He looks up, knowing how crappy he must look right now, and he's relieved to see that he was right. He pushes his face into Zito's chest and burrows into the arm that wraps around his body and tries to be quiet when he cries.


End file.
